


Overheard Through the Baby Monitor

by Melody_F_Dean



Series: Not That Much Of A Sociopath [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Completely, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Nothing Hurts, Nothing serious, Pallet cleanser from the last part, Parentlock, but that's why I posted today, its father day here, not too relevent to ther story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-12 10:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melody_F_Dean/pseuds/Melody_F_Dean





	Overheard Through the Baby Monitor

When John moved back into 221B with Rosie, Sherlock would sneak the baby monitor into his room once John was asleep.  He was a lighter sleeper anyway, and John was sleeping on the sofa, next to Rosie's cot. John had no idea that the monitor even had batteries in it. It had been a baby shower gift and he'd brought it with him, but didn't need it right now.

Despite sleeping right next to her Sherlock often got to Rosie before John even woke up. He had learnt to listen for the first signs of a crying fit and would get hold of her straight away and take her back to his room to calm her. 

Sometimes, especially after cases, he wouldn't be able to wake himself up in time, and would only get up much too late. Rosie was already in full swing and he would be able to here John through the monitor, already up.

 

  The first time, it took Sherlock a while to hear through his dream. John's voice, soothing, soft and strong all at the same time, was already coming through the speaker.

"I know, sweetheart, come on-" there was a pause and fabric folding around as he picked her up. "Daddy's here, look. Shhhhshhhshhh.." All was quiet for a second except for Rosie's crying, and it was like that just long enough for Sherlock to start worrying. He was almost out of bed when John starting singing. The soothing-soft-strong voice made even more beautiful with a melody. Sherlock fought to keep his breathing in check as he listened to the music. He wasn't singing one particular tune. At points, Sherlock recognized songs that were popular and had been playing on the radio, songs that were John's favourites, songs that Sherlock had written. He hummed all of them in the tempo and style of a lullaby, Rosie quieting throughout. She was just sniffling now, with the occasional gurgle of approval. She obviously liked the sound. Sherlock couldn't agree more. He lay back, pushing his head into the pillow and let sound wash over him. He drifted back to sleep as John sang.

 

  The second time happened before the next case had arrived. Sherlock was much more able to wake up, but still was too late. He heard John stir as he got to his bedroom door. He went back to bed and lay down, hoping that John would start singing again.

"I'm hear, Rosie," he cooed. "Let's try not to cry. We don't want to wake up Sherlock, now, do we?" In the back of his mind he thought of how adorable it was the John would think about him, only just having woken up himself.

"He really needs some sleep, you know. Also some food..." John continued babbling to Rosie in a soft voice and Sherlock felt emotions swelling inside him. He knew John worried about his habits in these areas, he could read it on his face, but he had never heard him say these things out loud. He sat up on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling a small wave of energy hit.

"I know he can be difficult sometimes, but he really is brilliant." Rosie gurgled and laughed while John played with her. "Well, you know. You love him too." Sherlock felt like he was floating. He knew John loved him, but something about how he was saying it now... It seemed more than platonic.

"Sssssshhhh- Ssshhha," Rosie answered quietly, starting to drift back to sleep. John kissed her head.

"That's right, Sherlock. We'll get to see him soon," he promised. "Sleep now, darling." Rosie softly babbled as John put her back into her cot. The noise slowed as she drifted off to sleep. Sherlock could only hear John's quiet footsteps now. He was obviously trying to be silent, but didn't quite get there. He sank onto the sofa.

  It didn't take long for John to fall asleep. Only ten minutes or so passed before Sherlock stood from his bed. As quietly as he could he went to his bedroom so and opened it, extremely thankful for the lack of squeak. John must had fixed it, because he remembered it doing so a couple of days ago.He drifted through the kitchen and paused at the end of the kitchen table, peering round the door frame.  He could see Rosie lying on her back, sleeping soundly. The sight made him smile. As much as he didn't see himself looking after children Rosie was the exception. Watsons were always the exception it seems. He craned his neck further and saw the top of John's head on the sofa, his shoulders gently rising and falling as he slept soundly. That sight made him smile even wider, his heart almost ripping out of his throat. 

  It took all that Sherlock had not to go wake up John with hugs and kisses. But he knew that was a bad idea. He had to force himself to remember that John had PTSD. Waking him up like that was a likely way to earn himself a punch, and then you would have to men in the middle of the living room having panic attacks, probably with an alarmed, crying baby, and no one would be of any use for a good ten minutes. He knew all that, but it didn't stop him wanted to go over. 

  Instead he watched John until he felt sure that he could control  his own movements again, and gently walked back to his room. He could wait until the morning to enjoy time with the Watsons.

 

   The third time John had taken the monitor into Sherlock's room. They had just finished a case which involved people being kidnapped and some particularly gruesome murders, and he had watched Sherlock become progressively worse as the case rolled on.  He did have to admire his stamina though. Even through all the pain Sherlock hadn't once thought about giving up or handing the case back unsolved. But now that the case was over, and he would finally sleep, he was sure to have nightmares and relive his own trauma. 

   John didn't even ask. He didn't give Sherlock a chance to say no. He needed someone to be with him, especially if that someone also understood the type of nightmares he was going to get. So the slept in the same bed. It was extremely awkward. They had never shared a bed before. They both stayed on their own edges, keeping space between them, neither of them sure if their touch would be welcome or not. 

  Sherlock must have eventually drifted to sleep because he woke up to muffled cries through the monitor and his bed empty. It took him a second to work out why that seemed wrong. But then he heard John talking to Rosie.

"Hey there, sweetheart, shhh-shh, its okay," he murmured to her. "Do you need your nappy changing? Is that what's wrong?" There was a sniff and a stifled cough before he continued. "Yep, that seems to be it..." John continued a monologue of nothing in particular, just keeping Rosie calm and quiet, while he changed her and get her ready to go back to bed. Sherlock lay listening, not even bothering to keep his eyes open, all the better to picture the scene playing out in the living room. Watching John let out his nurturing side, even just in his imagination, was extremely sweet and made him smile and snuggle deeper into his bed.

"Alright there we go, it's all better now, Rosie," John said, his grin audible through the speaker. "Now it's time for bed. Do you want a story before sleeping?"

"Sto-y" she called back quietly. John chuckled softly in return. 

"Alright, but it'll have to be quick. We don't want Sherlock to get lonely do we?"

"N-no lon-ey." It never ceased to surprise Sherlock when John put his needs to high up. Of course he had always felt that way for John, but it was astonishing to realize that John acted the same with him. The feeling overwhelmed him and he felt a pricking at the corners of his eyes as he tried to come to terms with this information. He had taken three deep breathes before John started gently telling a story to Rosie.

  "Once upon a time, there live an amazing prince. He had magic powers and could fix things much faster than everyone else. A lot of people loved him, but some people were very jealous. You see, one of the lords like it when things were broken, and got upset when the magic prince would turn up and fix things again after he broke them. So he got all the people who were jealous of him together and the started saying mean things about him so that the people who liked the prince would start believing them the prince would get sad.

 "And he did get very sad. He though everyone believed the jealous lord, even his closest knights, so he ran away. The knights were very sad when he had gone. They thought he was never coming back and it scared them. Things stayed broken and no one was able to make it okay. But after a very long time he came back, and all the knights were happy again. They had missed him so much while he was gone that they never left his side again, and made sure he would always stay safe, even from his own nightmares.

 "So the magic prince came home, and he realized just how loved he was. He never felt the need to leave his knights ever again, and stayed with them forever." 

 It took Sherlock a shockingly long time to understand that this story was about him, even in his light slumber. It was embarrassing to think the prince had already come back before it had clicked. The thought of it made him cry. Obviously John had skipped over most of what had happened - it wouldn't do to be telling an infant all that - but it made him ashamed to think he had never before tried to picture how John had been when he had gone. Of course, Lestrade had told him some details, but John never let on.

  Sherlock could faintly hear the sound of footsteps as John entered the room, but was too asleep to acknowledge his presence. He heard the footsteps move to the other side of the bed and felt  a weight sink onto the other side of the bed. During the night Sherlock had rolled onto his side, facing the middle of the bed and John got in, facing him as well. He lay a hand onto Sherlock's waist and closed his eyes. Sherlock sighed into the physical contact, feeling even more content than when he was listening to John's soft soliloquy, and let himself fall into a deeper sleep.

  After that night, John's presence in Sherlock's bed was a regular thing. At first John used the excuse of Rosie getting too old to sleep next to her dad, but it soon became more to do with the ease of reaching out and kissing each other.

 

  The fourth time was several months later. It was after a case, which had been incredibly simple in the end but had taken a long time to unravel. Sherlock stirred as John got out of bed.

"No, you just sleep," John whispered, giving Sherlock a swift kiss on the forehead before leaving the room. Rosie's whimpers came through the speaker as he closed his eyes again. John's voice soon answered the cries.

"Oh, hello, sweetheart," he whispered, and she instantly stopped whimpering and started babbling. "Oh, did you have a nightmare? I'm sorry darling..." John paused, picking her up, then continued pacifying her until she was calm. Sherlock could hear her stilted blubbering as she used the language she could to express what she dreamt to him, and John's steady answers consoling her. He hated thinking that she was seeing bad things in her mind. He wished he could protect her from them, but it was part of life. All he and John could do was be there for her. There were three minutes after Rosie had finished of almost silence, excluding Rosie's sniveling. Sherlock had started drifting off to sleep when he heard John talking again.

"...What do you think about that? If a new baby came to live with us?" Sherlock's eyes shot open quickly. He had missed something vital.

"New," Rosie exclaimed quietly. "Brubba?"

"Yes a little brother," John was smiling at how quickly she had caught on. "He'd have dark curly hair and pale eyes and-"

"Sh-ock!" 

"Yes, just like Sherlock." Sherlock's breath stopped. It seemed almost like John was talking about having a child. Another one... With him. He would be lying if he said he had never thought about it, but he had never dreamed of saying it out loud.Never had he thought that John might the thinking the same thoughts. The floating feeling came back. He fought to control his breathing again. There was some more talking happening on the other end of the speaker, but it was too staticky for him to make out, until-

"Dada Shock." His breathing was lost again. Any other sound was stifled as his brain whizzed around, not stopping until John came back into the room.

Their eyes locked, Sherlock now sitting up, and confusion was spreading ever John's face as he took in his expression. 

"What's wrong?" Sherlock continued to stare, seemingly unable to move. John's eyes abruptly moved to the monitor, and he gave a small gasp.

"Y-you heard everything," he whispered, shifting uncomfortably.  It was Sherlock.s turn to be confused. _Embarrassed? Why would he be embarrassed? He was fine when talking to Rosie._ He got up and moved deliberately towards John. When he was in arms reach he pulled him into a rib crushing hug.

"Sh-Sherlock? Wha-" he moved back, realizing he was probably squeezing a little too tight.

"She called me- She called me dada," he explained, his voice trembling. John visibly relaxed and laughed, going back to hugging him.

"Well, of course she did," he proclaimed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She's your daughter, too, you know."

"I just- I never-"

"I know Sherlock, but it doesn't mean it wouldn't happened," he laughed. He kissed his surprised face, still laughing. He slowly composed himself and cleared his throat slightly before continuing.

"I- I actually thought you were upset. Y'know, about- About the other thing I said..." He was once again acting embarrassed and took a step back form Sherlock.It clicked that he was embarrassed because Sherlock had heard his inner thoughts. He didn't know yet. Sherlock purposely took a step toward him and took his hand. John looked back up into his eyes.

"It's okay John. I'm not at all upset," he paused. This was still hard for him. "I've actually been thinking the same thing recently-" but he never got to finish his sentence, as his mouth was suddenly taken over by John's, neither of them even breathing for what seemed like hours.

"I- I never thought you would want to," John panted, once they split.

"Of course I do, it's part of you." John laughed, planting a kiss on his lips again.

"Well, we should use yours this time. We already have a little Watson running around. It would be nice to have a little Holmes be there too." Sherlock grinned, picturing what he was saying.

"I don't really care, as long as we have them together," he answered. "We'll start looking for surrogates in the morning."

 

 

 


End file.
